he shrugged, 'they won't. Most never have; they never will.'
He looked at Sam. 'I've lectured you, Sam. I'm sorry.'
'Don't be.'
When the priest spoke again, his voice was wistful. 'I'm ready to go home. I
'There will be a Holy War someday, Sam—of sorts. It won't be called a Holy War, but it will be one; it will be the war to end all wars, for it will be directed by God. And it will be a blood bath against the un-Holy.'
'And when it's over?' Sam asked softly.
'God will end the world.'
Sam dragged the tarp-wrapped carcass to the fence surrounding Tyson's Lake.
'Dump it over the fence,' Dubois said.
The body dropped with a plop.
'Beasts of the night,' Dubois called out, and there was a stirring in the dark timber. 'Here is your sister. Come see what God's hand has destroyed.'
The Beasts came to the timberline. Sam clicked the Thompson SMG off safety, lifting the muzzle. 'How many of them are there?'
'The Lord only knows,' Dubois whispered. 'Let them come closer, if they will.'
The night was silent.
'Don't you want to feast on her stinking remains?' Dubois called.
But the Beasts refused to come closer. They prowled the darkness of the timber, snarling and growling. The smell of them drifted to the men by the fence.
'They know—somehow—it's a trap,' Sam said.
Father Dubois looked down at the tarp-wrapped, nonhuman thing on the other side of the fence. 'Leave her. Let's go. You're free of her, Sam.'
'To Hell with her!' Sam spat the words.
The priest glanced at him. He smiled. 'A very blunt way of summing up a most interesting evening, son. Blunt, but accurate.'
When the men had gone, and the Beasts were sure of that, they loped up from the timber to the carcass. Ripping the tarp and blanket from her, they dragged the body to the timber. There, they feasted.
Jimmy Perkins was waiting at the rectory when Sam pulled in.
'What's wrong, Jimmy?' Sam asked, looking at the young man's pale face.
'Father Haskell. He's dead! Beaten to death.' He ran a shaking hand over his face. 'When I went to get Doctor King, someone took the body. The body is gone!'
Dubois did not appear stunned or shocked. He crossed himself and said, 'We killed one of them, they killed one of us.'
'But they outnumber us, Father Dubois!' Jimmy protested.
'In a manner of speaking,' the priest replied.
'There's more,' the young Chief said. 'Someone has just dug up John's body—carried it off with them.' He looked at Sam. 'What you said about the Undead; is that true?'
'Yes,' Dubois answered for Sam. 'They're walking the nignt.'
Jimmy shivered. 'Like in the movies?'
'With one exception,' Dubois said. 'This time it's real.'
Sam slept fitfully the remainder of that night, the memory of what had happened to Michelle strong in his mind. He could not shake the recall of that awful evening and her transformation. At dawn, he rose from the couch—he could not bring himself to sleep in either bedroom—and made a pot of strong coffee. He sat on the porch, sipping his coffee.
Waiting.
At midmorning, he called his friends together, drove over to Chester's, and told them all what had transpired the night before. And about the death and disappearance of Haskell.
'Killed her!' Chester blurted. 'You and Father Dubois?'
'Oh, my God!' Faye covered her face with her hands.
'What did you do with her?' Wade asked, his tone indicating he wanted to believe but was having extreme difficulty.
Sam told him, bluntly, leaving nothing out.
The newsman closed his eyes and shook his head. 'Dear God,' was all he said.
God's name, Sam thought, had been used more in the past few days than in the entire past year. He could not help thinking that in times of great stress, He is the one almost always called upon.
Tony moved to the window, looking out on the street. 'Not one person moving.'
'It's too early,' Sam said. 'The creatures of the night are still sleeping. Tony? You're armed? Good. Will you stay here with Miles? I want to take Wade and Chester for a little ride.'
The watchers let them leave. They had their instructions: let the God-believers prowl all they want. They can't get out of the County; all roads are checked.
The three men rode out to Tyson's Lake in Sam's truck. Noon-hot, the sun blazing down on the earth. The men were all armed. Chester wore a .45 in a shoulder holster; Wade had a .38 belted on. He had offered no objection when Sam told him to arm himself. The skeptic was turning into a believer. But he was not quite there— yet.
Sam drove past Hoge's Pool Hall. 'Look on the window, Wade.' He pointed to the upside-down cross.
Wade nodded, the muscles in his jaw bunching.
Outside of town, Sam pointed to the 666 on the side of a barn.
Again, Wade nodded. 'I'm getting the message, Sam.'
'I hope so,' the preacher said.
'Michelle is—Michelle is really—?'
'Dead, yes.' Sam spoke quietly, his voice just audible over the hum of tires and the rush of wind through the windows of the truck.
Wade looked out at the passing countryside. He said nothing.
'The lightning-blazed tree,' Sam pointed out. 'You can still smell it.'
The men stood on the crest of the hill, overlooking Tyson's Lake, and the miles of emptiness surrounding it.
'Listen,' Sam said. 'Listen with all your heart and your ears. Be very still, then tell me what you hear.'
The area was absolutely silent. Nothing sang, nothing barked, nothing moved. Wade shuddered. 'Not a sound. Sam, I can pick up something. I don't know what it is, though.'
'Evil,' the minister said, touching Wade on the arm. He could feel the man's tension. 'Come on. Move quietly, and be very careful. When we get to the edge of the lake, you'll be able to smell them. I believe if the odor is faint, they're in their holes or dens. If the odor is strong, they're out, watching us. Be careful when we get to the edge of the timber.'
'I wish I'd brought my 30-06,' Wade said.
'Are you beginning to believe?' Chester asked. Sam had to smile.
Wade chose not to reply as the men walked down the hill.
Sam stopped them by the side of the water. He pointed to the moist ground. Footprints stood out, like nothing either man had ever seen before.
Wade knelt down, inspecting them.
'Bear?' he asked hopefully.
'You know better,' Sam said.
'God!' Chester said. 'That smell is awful.'
